


Mine

by KoreArabin



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (2020), Dracula (BBC), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood As Lube, Blood Drinking, Cutting, Dubious Consent, Fights, M/M, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: The Count at last makes Harker his bride.In every way.
Relationships: Count Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 73
Kudos: 765





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is, of course, a work of fiction by KoreArabin, but it incorporates some passages of Bram Stoker's "Dracula" taken verbatim from the original.

31 May.— This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myself with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so that I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again a surprise, again a shock!

Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda, relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all that might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and pondered awhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.

The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new scheme of villainy....

Same day, later.— I awoke in my own bed, the moonlight so bright that through the deep, stone mullioned windows the room was light enough to see. I started with fright as I beheld the Count suddenly standing beside the bed, staring down at me. With an inhuman celerity he drew back the bed covering, and was upon me, his sharp nails making short shrift of my night shift. I lay before him, naked as the day I was born, stunned to stupefaction as he coolly surveyed my body.

He said, softly, almost to himself, "I told them that you were mine. And so you will be, in every way."

Then, his eyes locked upon mine, he shrugged off his jacket and unwound the linen stock from his throat. I could only stare, mesmerised, as he slowly unlaced his shirt and then he stood before me, bared to the waist. 

For a man I had only a couple of weeks ago thought elderly and decrepit, his body was magnificent. His chest was wide and furred with gleaming curls of soft sable. His arms were well-muscled, his biceps defined and sculpted, his hands strong yet the fingers long and artistic. And his stomach - my eyes were drawn inexorably down its flat, creamily skinned surface to the line of dark, finer hair vanishing into the waistband of his dress trousers.

I startled as he whispered his hated pet-name for me.

"Johnny."

Roused from my stupor, I struggled to sit up, but the Count's hand was upon my throat before I could scarce make a move.

"Johnny. _Johnny._ Don't be silly. You want this as much as I do."


	2. Chapter 2

Continuing to hold me down by the throat with his right hand, Dracula raised the other to his breast and slowly slit a delicately fine line through the flesh just above his left nipple. Immediately, the blood began to seep down, coalescing around the nipple and dripping, slowly, the effect being a lactation, not of a mother's sacred sustenance to her infant, but a most diabolical offering of something I can, even now, barely comprehend. An offering, of tainted blood, to be suckled.

The Count smiled at me, his eyes flaming red with devilish passion; the nostrils of his aquiline nose opened wide and quivering at the edge, and his white sharp teeth bared like those of a wild beast. He moved over me, pulling my arms up over my head and enveloping my wrists in a vice-like grip, then grasped the back of my neck hard with his left hand. I found myself pulled up, inexorably, to his bosom, my mouth ground against his nipple, my nose buried in the wound above. As I struggled for breath I was unable to avoid swallowing the blood, and I found myself suddenly in an ecstasy of sensation. I moaned, wantonly, as I began to suckle in earnest at the Count's rapidly hardening nipple. 

Dracula released my arms, and then sliced a similar line above his other nipple. I pulled back against his grasp upon my neck, desperate to taste more, and he allowed it, letting me rest back on to the pillows of my bed, my arms rising as if of their own accord and pulling him down to me. His breast was once more upon my mouth, and I arched up seeking his body, grinding myself against him. 

I suckled greedily - first one, then the other, unable to get enough of the overwhelmingly delicious nectar flowing from the Count's chest. I cannot imagine, now, what a spectacle I must have presented, moaning and panting as my mouth moved between the two, lapping and sucking, writhing in a frenzy like one possessed. I had become a beast, my existence reduced to a singular thrall of pure sensation, all proper considerations set aside as I luxuriated in my debauchery. 

My sudden cognisance that, in my delirium of pleasure, my manhood had arisen and stood rigid against the Count's thigh, did not give me any pause for thought. 

I moved again, rutting against the man above me, moaning in supplication as I at last realised what the Count had meant when he had offered to make me his bride. 


	3. Chapter 3

I now recall, with some shame, that I confessed in my earlier writings that I knew nothing of women, other than the sweet, chaste kisses of my dear Mina. But, every man has in his bones a consciousness of sex, and sexual passion. I had never before thought to find a man provoking the same passions as I had experienced in my dreams of Mina, yet I had been unusually shy and perturbed before the Count, but horribly fascinated in a way I had not, until now, fully understood. 

This dark man, now poised exquisitely above me like some statue of desire made flesh, had the glamour of a wild dream. I hated him - I hated him instinctively - I hated him intensely - but, now, in my frenzy, I longed to arouse his interest.

As if he could read my thoughts, the Count grasped the short hair at my nape, making me hiss in discomfort as he twisted it cruelly, forcing my head back and exposing my throat. He leaned in to me to skim his nose and lips back and forth, fleetingly, just above the fragile skin at my pulse point, as if scenting me.

He murmured something to himself, which I could not quite make out, and then I felt his breath against my neck, and just the slightest graze of teeth over my throat, before he moved down over my chest. He dipped his head to my nipple, and bit me, hard. I arched up against him, moaning as he began to suck the blood pulsing from my breast.

His eyes, when he at last moved up over me again, were the strangest and darkest I have ever witnessed - black as coal in the centre but merging into a deep crimson towards what should have been the whites. I had the strangest apprehension that I was looking into a pit of fire, or blood, an infinite void of darkest night.

The Count pressed his fingertips into one of the bloody gashes on his breast, gathering up a slick of rich, slightly congealing blood, and smeared it over my mouth and my nose. I was drowning in the rich copper taint of his scent, whining low in my throat with a need I could not articulate. He snarled then, feral, his teeth white and sharp and terrifying, prying my lips apart and forcing his dripping fingers into my open mouth. Despite my sudden terror, I laved at them, desperate to swallow down every trace of the delicious red nectar. But, before I could suck them clean, he withdrew his fingers, carelessly smearing the remaining blood down over my chin and neck. 

One hand twisted in my hair, forcing my face up to his, and the other tight around my neck, he then leaned in to kiss me.


	4. Chapter 4

I had only the sensation of sharp, sharp teeth and tongue, before my mouth was taken in a feral kiss. I moaned around the thick, serpentine muscle suddenly shoved down my throat, slicked with intoxicating blood. The Count's hands were at my neck, and twisted in my hair, holding me firmly in place.

I shudder to use such language, but I could only describe the violation of my mouth and throat as being _fucked_. The Count's tongue was entwined with mine, licking into the deep places of my mouth, earnest, brutal and hungry. His teeth bit into my lips, relentlessly bloodying them and the surrounding skin until I was sore and bleeding. There was not the merest semblance of love in such love-making, only the raw, animalistic fervour of the rut. 

As I moaned and bucked beneath the Count, I suddenly became aware of long, _cold_ fingers stroking at my manhood. I had never before felt another's touch upon such a private place, and I tried to pull away from its frigid grasp. Dracula suddenly sat back and hissed mockingly at me.

"Do you think you are too good for the touch of your sire, Jonathan Harker?" 

The effect of his words was a kind of jolting thunderclap of clarity upon me. All at once, my mania left me, and pushed myself up, forcing the Count off of me with all my might. To my amazement, I managed to muster the strength to shove him sideways, so that he slid suddenly from the bed with almost comic effect, crashing to the floor on his knees with his arms still tangled in the bedclothes.

He roared in anger, those terrifying teeth bared, gored and bloody. I scrambled away to the other side of the bed, and stood there trembling, poised in the age old apprehension of fight and flight, ready for his attack. But, instead, the Count slowly rose to his feet, wiping his mouth and licking his fingers clean, his eyes locked upon mine all the while, and smiled.

"Well, you are a lively one, aren't you, Johnny?"


	5. Chapter 5

The dear knows how long I might have stood there, frozen in fear and indecision, when all at once I remembered the crucifix given to me by the innkeeper's wife at the Golden Krone Hotel in Bistritz. Dear God! How long ago that seems now, and how gaily ignorant I was in my naiveté! 

Back then, an innocent abroad, I had as an English Churchman regarded the woman’s superstition as in some measure idolatrous, yet how thankful I was now to have considered refusing an old lady's well-meaning offering, if somewhat tainted with a peasant ignorance, as ungracious. "For your mother’s sake," she had said, and I could only echo, with fervent thanks, the same to our dearest Lord for the crucifix still in my possession. 

I had placed the crucifix in the cabinet beside my bed. I perceived that the only way in which I might reach it was to distract the foul being across the bed from me. I pondered on this only for a moment, then, fixing my gaze upon the casement behind the Count, and crying out as if in terror, in that way mounted the most scant of distractions. With Dracula momentarily diverted, with a dexterity I amazed myself at still possessing, I wrenched open the cabinet door and held the Cross up to his vile visage.

The Count screamed, holding his hands before his face, and staggered backwards. I realised that the radiance of the moon, so very bright through the stone mullioned windows, was reflecting a most brilliant luminance from the crucifix back into the Count's face. As he fell backwards, roaring in anger and pain, I made good my escape.

I had an advantage, my _only_ advantage in that place of foul depravity. The Count had said there was no plan of the castle, but I had found Petruvio's map. It had been clear from the castle map that Petruvio had created within his design a system of short cuts through the maze - hidden passages - possibly unknown even to Dracula himself.

My explorations thus far had shown me a place where I might conceal myself - a place probably, rather than possibly, unknown to the Count. A tiny oubliette concealed in the wall of one of the many spiralling stairwells; if it had an original purpose, that was now long forgotten. I crouched down into the darkness, schooling myself to be calm. I heard little within the solid stone chamber, other than some faint footfalls passing back and forth near my sanctuary. 

I steeled myself to remain hidden until I judged a sufficient time to have elapsed for it to be daylight.

But then, echoing through the castle, I heard Dracula's resounding roar.

"Johnny. _Johnny_. You cannot escape me. All you're doing is postponing the inevitable. I _will_ find you, and then I _will_ have you - now, with added punishments. And, my newest, _dearest_ little bride, I am _so_ going to enjoy administering them."


	6. Chapter 6

I remained in that freezing, dismal chamber, counting as well as I might the seconds, minutes and hours away. Eventually, when I had at last judged (but with no great confidence, given my fatigue and disorientation) that sufficient time had elapsed for it to be day, I slowly pushed at the stones sealing the oubliette. They moved aside silently and I stepped out, equally quietly, into the stairwell.

There was utter silence. The castle seemed totally still. I moved soundlessly in my bare feet, making for the nearest casement to ascertain whether the sun was indeed risen. If so, I would have the opportunity to either make my escape or completely destroy Count Dracula. I prayed that I might be able to do both.

The sun was indeed up. Its bright rays streamed in through the narrow casement, illuminating only a small patch of the castle corridor. But to me, those beams were a benediction from Heaven itself. I basked, momentarily, in the warmth of that God-sent radiance.

~~~ 

You will of course recall the terrible episode when I stumbled unwittingly upon the crates in the caves beneath the castle. Those pitiable creatures nailed undead into their caskets, surrounded by the mouldering vestiges of their human lives, descending upon me and pleading for death. If one dreads death and the tomb, then surely the fear of an eternal un-death and an eternity spent scratching at a coffin lid, is horror beyond reason. 

And then, my discovery - the _revelation_ of the Count, dead and yet undead, sleeping yet awake - in his heavy, ancient coffin. My strength had failed me when I had witnessed his dead-undead eyes flicker open, even in the tomb. 

That revelation, coupled with the events of the night before in my bed chamber, had given me a stratagem. I now knew that Dracula could not bear the sight of the Cross. Indeed, how could such a foul being look upon that which was all holiness, goodness and love, when in its black heart lay only wickedness and corruption? 

I sped down the long, spiralling staircase until I reached the great hall, where I had dined with the Count, and spent many long evenings conversing, his English improving in unbelievable leaps and bounds from day to day. The fire was low in the grate, the embers glowing and shedding a most diabolical hue upon the ancient, heavy furniture. 

I took up a solid knife from the cutlery, and immediately headed back to the staircase to wind my way down to the castle caves.


	7. Chapter 7

I moved as silently as possible. When I had previously ventured into these caves, I had at the last been terrified to the point of a swooning insensibility, awakening laid upon the rug before the fire in the great hall. Since the Count was there sitting, awaiting my return to consciousness I had, considering his custom of always being absent from the castle and my company during the day, surmised that it was night time.

Dracula had awoken as I stared in horror through the fractured lid of the sarcophagus, and had arisen from his tomb. But surely that had been during the daylight hours, when I was making yet another of my explorations of the castle? His absence during the day suggested an aversion to the light, and I was as sure as I could be that I had not been searching so long that night had fallen. Had the darkness of the Count's crypt enabled him to awake, notwithstanding the sun being in the sky outside of the castle walls? 

I resolved to work as quickly and quietly as possible. Taking the knife in hand, I began to carve the Cross into the stone walls as clearly and as deeply as I could. It was not an easy task; the rock was ancient, solid and uneven, and yet I persevered. So engrossed was I in my task, carving that holy symbol again and again, I was insensible to any sound or movement until I startled almost out of my wits at Dracula's quiet growl behind me.

"Johnny. Oh, _Johnny_. You should have started by the _door_."

All at once a body was at my back, crowding me against the wall. The Count's hand stroked around the right hand side of my neck, his long fingers across my throat, his thumb nail scratching gently at the short hairs of my nape. Then, he grasped my shoulders, spinning me as easily as a ragdoll, and pushed me back against the stone wall.

I tried to bring the knife up to strike him, but he twisted it out of my hand and cast it aside into the shadows of the crypt. Pulling my arms above my head, restraining my wrists in a vice-like grasp, he pressed his body hard against mine. We stood there, frozen like two stalagmites, rising petrified and ancient from the cave floor, our gazes locked together. 

I expected Dracula's eyes to be glowing a diabolic reddish-black, as they had when he had arisen from his tomb on my previous experience in that crypt but, instead, they were their usual deepest brown, albeit with pupils blown wide and full. They appeared to me in that moment also to be imbued with the most profound and inexpressible sadness. He suddenly released my wrists, and they fell down on to his shoulders. He leaned in to me, and I then girded myself for my final agony; the deep, fatal bite to my neck, and my resultant exsanguination and death. 

Yet, the expected pain did not come. I realised that Dracula was still looking at me, his gaze intense, as if scanning my face with a profound acuity. I almost forgot to breathe. Time stood still.

I have heard that such moments sometimes arise spontaneously when the intensity of our experience is too great, and our perception then changes as we succumb to a sudden, energetic alertness. At these times we experience things more quickly than is the case when our consciousness is conditioned by our familiar stream of thoughts - it is as if time stops, or slows to a crawl - in these moments, our consciousness is torn loose and flies unfettered and free. We become capable, briefly, of seeing even the most infinitesimal details of a situation with an blinding, scarcely creditable, clarity.

And so it was now.


	8. Chapter 8

[Editor's note] There is at this point within the journal an entry in an unfamiliar hand. A flowing, looping, cursive script, clearly not that of Mr Harker, but far more akin to that of the eastern European states. It reads as follows:

_Let it be known that when I first met the Englishman Jonathan Harker I did not anticipate any future interests. He was a pale, insipid man, typical of what I knew of that region of north-western Europe. One of that class of clerks or low-ranking officials existing somewhere in the echelons of society below those more interesting aristocrats and politicians I intended to cultivate, once in England._

_But, in making this man's acquaintance I began to become more intrigued. Our discussions over supper each night persuaded me that he was a man of considerable learning - he could converse on every subject I put to him, and he had what I now understand to be a typically English self-deprecating wit. He was, in short, a most delightful and diverting companion._

_Ah yes, and an endearing little observation, one which I could not avoid in our meetings, was the slightest crookedness of his teeth, which I am informed is something of an English trait. It was charming. It was distracting. It proved a most powerful aphrodisiac for one so long confined to the company of a handful of medieval-bred brides._

_I wanted this man._

_I do not censure my poor brides for their shortcomings - they were creatures of their time. I too was a creature of my time, but I transcended my earthly manifestation. I have achieved perfection._

_Yet - how have I been so archaic, so outmoded in my thinking? For centuries, I have accepted the received wisdom that marriage is between a man and a woman. Although, in the circumstances surrounding any of my past nuptials, one or both (or more) of the participants may have been dead. Or undead._

_My dearest Jonathan has opened my eyes to a new world - a new century - where such fusty, outdated notions will become obsolete. Why should I not take a man to be my bride? I have lain with men occasionally during my long unlife, and I have known great pleasure in such encounters._

_In life, I was a prince amongst men. In undeath, I have been frustrated so many times by the limitations of those I have preyed upon. None of them has ever displayed the spirit, the diversion, the challenge that my sweetest, most delicious Jonathan, has presented. To encounter a spirit like his - so strong, so resolute - and so deliciously **rebellious** is beyond exquisite. So intoxicating. So many opportunities for correction._

_Sangfroid. I learned that term from you, Johnny. That which you have displayed from the moment you set foot in my castle, and from the instant I killed you._

_Cold. Blood. How delicious. Well, my dear, **I shall have you.**_


	9. Chapter 9

"Be still."

I could do nothing else. Time abated, its passage sluggish, and yet - through that fog of semi-consciousness I remained meticulously alert. 

Every detail of the Count's face was to me simultaneously defined in exquisite pellucidity - his noble, aquiline nose, his abundant, permanently quizzical brows, his eyes of deep - _deepest_ \- darkest brown, his lustrous sable hair, and his full, red lips. His lips...

Those sinfully luscious lips. Dracula leaned in to me, pressing those lips against mine. I steeled myself for the earlier feral, _biting_ onslaught of the bedchamber but, instead, he simply flicked the very tip of his tongue over the crease of my lips, gently probing, seeking entrance.

And then, the softest of entreaties, breathed against my mouth.

"Please."


	10. Chapter 10

Please. Please? It _was_ a plea. The first I had heard from the Count. 

"Please?"

Dracula drew back from me, and smiled.

"Tell me what you want, Jonathan. _Please_."

"I want you to spare me. I meant what I said on the castle ramparts."

He breathed again against my lips, his fingers in my hair.

"Remind me."

Suddenly, it was if he had entered my mind - the scene before he wrung my neck - before he _murdered_ me - was as clear as day.

~~~

_"Johnny, how? How do I spare you? How?"_

_"Let me go."_

_"You know why I'm going to England. You know that I'm going to kill people. A lot of them. As many as I need. And perhaps even more."_

_"I won't."_

_"You won't what? Oh, you won't tell anyone about me? Or try to stop me? You'll just let me slaughter all those innocents, no questions asked? Some lawyer you turned out to be, Johnny!"_

_"I promise. I - I swear. I - I - I - swear."_

_"All right, then. Do that."_

_"What?"_

_"Swear. I'm going to England to destroy everything and everyone you love, but if you give me your word that you won't try to stop me - I'll spare you."_

_"It's a trick."_

_"Give me your word."_

_"No! You're going to kill me anyway."_

_"Look me in the eye and give me your word."_

_"Count Dracula. I give you my word. If you let me out of this place - if you let me live -  
then I - then I will do everything in my power to stop you."_

_"Quite right. That's my Johnny. Welcome to the mountaintop."_

~~~

Dracula continued to twirl a lock of my newly abundant hair around his finger.

"So? What has changed? All you have done is to remind me of your utter disobedience, my dear. Disobedience I will not tolerate from my bride."


	11. Chapter 11

As soon as he mentioned that term again - _bride_ \- I knew what it was I must do. That term - on his lips it was an abomination, a profane perversion of the holy sacrament of marriage - yet he clearly held it in some form of reverence, no matter how blasphemous.

"Count Dracula. You want me to be your bride..."

Here my voice failed me. I could not, as a God-fearing, upstanding Englishman, even begin to sanction the implications of such a sacrilegious union - and yet.

He had appeared to me in that instant upon the mountaintop to be sincere, when he had asked me for my word. Of course, I had at that juncture admittedly been upon the point of death. Anyone could be forgiven for a lapse of judgment in such extremity.

And yet.

I knew from our long conversations over supper and beyond that the Count was a warrior from a long line of warriors. He had told me of his grandfather, dying in battle with great honour, and his father, his brothers, and his sons - and even their sons. All of them had fallen as heroes on the battlefield. His great pride in such a lineage, and the tributes he had paid, night after night, persuaded me that, despite the foul undead creature he had become, he had a semblance of that same honour within him. 

If I could persuade him to exchange a vow with me to spare my darling Mina, and those close to her in England, for my vow to submit to him, and be the bride (I trembled in an ecstasy of horror at such a horrible prospect) he desired me to be, would it be enough?


	12. Chapter 12

"Count Dracula. You want me to be your bride."

He smiled at me, his eyes so very dark, and one sable brow lifted as if in amusement.

He stepped back from me, and folded his arms. "Go on."

I took a breath, steadying myself and resolving to ignore the manner in which his gaze bore into me, and the mocking undertone to his voice.

I continued. "Very well. I will be your bride, to - submit and - o-obey you. If, if you will make me a pledge in return."

He nodded to himself, and then, growling low in his throat, he returned to standing over me, once again boxing me in against the stone wall of the crypt.

"A bargain?"

He laughed to himself.

"Do you really imagine that _you_ can negotiate an arrangement such as marriage - or any agreement, for that matter - with _me_?"

I swallowed deeply, staring him down with an air of determination and bravado I confess I did not possess. 

"Of course, Count."

During my professional life, I had of course transacted many marriage settlements on behalf of my clients. And now I was negotiating one of my own, and the stakes had never been higher. I only wished that when I looked into Dracula's dark, bottomless eyes, I did not feel as if I was making the greatest mistake of my life - or death.

"Count Dracula. I promise to submit to you and obey you, to be your bride in every way, in return for your binding promise to me that you will not harm my former fiancée, Wilhelmina Murray, or any of her family, friends and relations in any way, when we travel to England or in fact ever and anywhere."

Dracula grinned at me. "Not the most eloquently drafted legal contract, but I get the gist."

Then, taking me forcefully by the hand, he pulled me past the carved crosses and up the passageway to the castle staircase.


	13. Chapter 13

And then we were back in the great hall where, as I believe I have previously noted, I had dined with the Count, and spent many long evenings conversing, his English improving in unbelievable leaps and bounds from day to day.

The fire was burning fiercely, its light dispensing a most cheerful hue upon the ancient heavy table and chairs around it in the room, in total contrast to when I had visited it earlier. And I did not recall ever before seeing the thickly layered furs laid upon the floor before the fire, nor the richly embroidered silken cushions and blankets strewn around and over them. But, to someone who had spent so much time recently in the icy chill of the shadows, the tantalising prospect of warmth, comfort and rest offered by such luxury immediately rendered otiose all questions of how and why they had so suddenly appeared there.

The Count motioned to the area immediately before the fire, where the most sumptuous furs and cushions were piled.

"Mr Harker, please, take your ease here. It is an old custom of my country to rest, relaxed, upon such furnishings to discuss important matters of business. I understand that such an arrangement has come down to us from the Romans, who would spend hours in their triclinium having such serious conversations about politics, business and other important matters. 

I moved as one in the last stages of a faint borne of fatigue, dropping down on to the blessed softness of the furs, and resting my head upon one of the cushions.

Dracula had settled himself down perpendicular to me. Our heads formed the right angle of the triangle, I lying on my left side, my back to the fire. He then held out a goblet to me, filled to the brim with the rich crimson wine I had so often observed him drinking, when I sat down to my supper in that great hall. Its surface had an iridescence I could not recall previously noticing.

"Now, Mr Harker. We have so much to discuss, you and I."


	14. Chapter 14

When Dracula cast his gaze, appraisingly, over me, I suddenly remembered that I was naked. 

I had been naked since escaping from my bedchamber. How could it be that I, an English gentleman, had overlooked this, and had not only failed to remedy a dreadfully indecorous display, but had actively engaged the Count in dispute in such great disarray?

I moved to cover my nakedness with one of the silken blankets, but Dracula snarled at me, wresting the throw from my hand and casting it aside.

"No. If you are to be my bride, you will agree to submit yourself completely to your husband in every way. There shall be no boundaries of place, time, or situation in which my bride may willfully refuse to obey the directive of myself, the husband and _master_ , without incurring punishment."

"You will not cover yourself. Every part of you will be open to me. I will chart every part of your body, my love. I will map you, and then I will ascribe an aide-mémoire to every aspect, all the better to pleasure you. And I will give you pleasure - pleasure surpassing anything you can have ever dreamed of."

"And so, Jonathan Harker, shall we make our bargain?"


End file.
